


The Spiders Web

by ResurrectedSpiderbyte



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-10-27 03:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResurrectedSpiderbyte/pseuds/ResurrectedSpiderbyte
Summary: I tried to make the timeline as accurate as possible but it might be a bit wonky :( Anyway I really hope you enjoy if anyone reads it and I would recommend reading it as an entire piece rather than having to flick through the chapters because some are a lot shorter than others, and I use the separation for character focus.





	1. Radda

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make the timeline as accurate as possible but it might be a bit wonky :( Anyway I really hope you enjoy if anyone reads it and I would recommend reading it as an entire piece rather than having to flick through the chapters because some are a lot shorter than others, and I use the separation for character focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Present day) January 8th 2076

It's been four hours since the rescue mission began and there's been little to no success. The troops were getting tired; both Jack and Mccree were grumpy with sour expressions smeared across their faces. The others were huffing but trying to keep positive as the hope of rescuing their missing friends kept them upbeat. Angela could feel the tension the further they delved into the currently captured Talon side quarters; the unknown of what could be around the corner had everyone on their toes. Despite the building have undergone a thorough raid previous "thorough raids" didn't quite have a complete sweep as expected and resulted in serious losses. Clutching onto her staff she cautiously followed behind jack and mccree with the others trailing behind her, the corridors getting darker and darker with each second. Eventually, after passing numerous irrelevant doors and twists and turns, they reach a high security vault that had a jet-black wash with bright red lights illuminating the numbers at the side. Angela stepped aside and watched as a smallish soldier approaches the key code with an incredibly thin rectangular device; slotting it into the card holder. His brown eyes lit up as the once red numbers switched to a bright green and the vault unlocks with a thud. The soldiers pushed the vault door open and everyone steps inside, gun torches switched on giving the corridor an eerie crimson glow that flickered with each movement. Angela could feel the hairs on her arms stand on edge as the temperature dropped drastically. 

"This could be it. Keep in pairs." Jack growls under his breath, gently shoving past Mccree and unlocking the first rusty door gingerly. Before opening it, he turns around and watches as the new recruit's shuffle uncomfortably and eventually sort themselves out into pairs. Their quiet murmurs were somewhat comforting to Angela but she knew that could all change at any point. 

He pushed the door open and a foul smell escaped the room causing Angela to cover her face with her gloved hand and cough slightly. Jack grunts and walks in as the others stand worryingly waiting. After a few minutes, he emerges empty handed with a solemn look on his face 

"Not ours," Everyone sighs. "But dead." He finishes by shutting the door and pausing, as if paying respects. She had seen his response to death before but this was different; almost like he was incredibly disturbed by what he saw. 

"Jack..." Angela speaks softly, so only Jack could hear as the others rustle around with locks. "What happened to them?" 

"I don't want to think about it. And neither do you." He replies with a harsh yet protective tone in his voice, placing a hand on her shoulder and overlooking the others. She decides its best to leave him to it, brushing stray platinum blonde hairs out of her face and back into place. She brings out a delicate hanky and dabs her forehead gently to remove the sweat from her pale skin. Two soldiers drag out a feeble looking woman in torn rags and a blood-stained face. Her foot was at an unknown ankle and streaks of blood were evident on her back. She was still alive - but barely. Angela kneels beside her and begins performing basic medical care to ensure that she survives the journey to the vehicles outside Her gentle hands soothed the woman and despite the pain it was evident that Angela's presence alone was a great relief to the wounded. The fit soldiers unfold a portable stretcher and lay the heavily bandaged woman onto it and carry her out to freedom as Angela stands up right and smiles faintly. At least one good thing will come out of today; even if it is just one saved life. Slowly the number of patients increased and Angela's medical supplies were running low but thankfully a solider volunteered to bring some back after carrying the wounded out. Mccree sighs and lights a cigar - much to Jack's disgust- and suggested a break. 

"A break? What would you need a break for?" Jack growls. Angela rolls her eyes and leans against the cool wall. 

"Perhaps it's for the best I'm sure a few minutes will do more good than bad." She hums. Mccree tilts his hat in Jack's direction and winks in smugness. Despite Angela's efforts, Jack shakes his head stubbornly. 

"No. We have to move. We don't know how many of ours are left - and how long they have." He states bluntly as he kicks open another door. 

"Suit yourself, old man." Mccree jokes. He leans besides Angela and takes a puff of his Cigar, flicking the cinders to the floor and admiring his gun. Angela had always hated the smell of cigars and cigarettes alike; not to mention she didn't particularly get along with Mccree anyway. She takes herself off of the wall and follows Jack into one of the rooms to assist with removing more victims of Talon's wrath. So many unknown faces to overwatch were rescued and there were many more on top of taken soldiers. After a few more rooms were cleared even Jack has to take a rest, drinking from his scratched travel mug that he received as a secret santa gift at least 10 years ago. But the adrenaline of saving so many lives flawlessly pumped Angela full of energy; a feeling that never gets old even after the countless years in her field of work. Delving into the newly delivered batch of medical supplies, she refills her packs and makes her way towards one of the few doors left. Angela pulls at the rusty lock and pushes against the heavy iron door, grunting as it slowly opens with heavy squeaks. She peeks her head around the door and sees a small framed person on the floor with their back against the wall. There was a tiny cuboid "window" at the top of the back wall with bars stretching across it, allowing the moon light to pour in and illuminate the room only slightly. 

Angela cautiously walks forward, squinting as her eyes adjust to the lighting and making out the figure. She pauses almost in disbelief and watches as their breathing stutters occasionally and fingers twitch. Shaking her head gently she approaches them for further inspection; gasping and jumping back as the person jerks suddenly. Without realising it, Angela had already taken out her handgun and was pointing it at the woman in chains on the floor. She was shaking, and an angered yet bewildered expression was evident on her face; remembering what she did to Ana, what she almost did to Tracer and Winston, who she works for... and more importantly, what she did to Gerard. That sweet, gentle man. He was tall and strong yet had such a friendly presence. He lit up the room with his smile and could lift any tension with his bellowing laugh. His ridiculous moustache was usually the butt of most jokes much to his delight. He was caring and courageous. Angela had to care for Gerard many times after watching him sacrifice himself for his allies. She distinctly remembers almost losing him; his arm was torn in multiple places and major blood vessels were burst and he was losing consciousness rapidly. Whilst Angela was frantically trying to keep him alive, he told her to do whatever it takes. He didn't care if he could never serve overwatch again. All he wanted was to be able to go home to Amelie alive and on time so she wouldn't worry. It wasn't looking great and Angela remembers feeling so awful until he finished what he was saying. 

“I know I don't have to tell you what I want to say to Amelie if I don't pull through. You're too good at this.” His self-assured laugh calmed her shaking hands and, in some way, kept him alive. He didn't quite get home on time; evident by the 14 missed calls by his wife even after only half an hour of being late. Something he spoke of constantly was how excited he was to start a family with his wife. He already had baby names in mind and the exact Dad Jokes he would tell. Gerard was one of the greatest men Angela had ever met yet he was taken in a horrible and undeserving way. 

Now, Angela is face to face with the monster that took him. The monster that suffocated him in his sleep with her own pillow and dragged his body outside, leaving him in the grass so she didn't have to sleep besides his corpse. She watches as Widowmakers eyes open slowly and her yellow iris' have a glow to them. She struggled to focus her sight but it was clear she knew who was in front of her. Widow spluttered faintly, wriggling on the floor and groaning in pain. Blood trickled from her ears, nose and mouth, over crimson rivers that had dried seemingly only a few hours before. She whimpered ever so faintly. It was like keeping her eyes open was torture in itself. Angela slowly walked closer to her, kneeling down yet keeping the gun pointed firmly at her stained neck. Her clothes were ripped and filthy, stained with blood and whatever else. Her visor was still on her head yet the spider eyes were smashed and some shards had cut her silver blue skin. Her bottom lip had been bleeding heavily and she could see it pulsating. With each tiny movement - like opening her eyes wider - a shard stuck under the visor would dig into her scalp. 

"Why did you do it to him?" Angela hisses, grabbing the visor and pulling it off of her head in anger, smashing it to the floor. Widow flinched and her hands immediately jumped to her head, the shackles clanging together frightened her even more. Pieces of the visor had landed upside down; the largest centre piece was beside Widow and had a tiny Polaroid stuck with masking tape to the inside of it. She was fixated on the picture and began muttering in French. Her lip tore with this sudden movement and began to bleed more. "Answer me " Angela said, gripping the gun tighter and thrusting it a little closer to Widows throat. 

The frustration in her voice stopped her French rambling and caused her to tilt her head back to Angela, and her eyes slowly focused on her. Her eyebrows were tensed together. Her lip trembling as it seemed like all the pain she had undergone rampaged in her mind. Angela looked down to the picture and saw Gerard in his Overwatch uniform from one of his first missions. She sighed and returned her sight back to Widow. 

"I should kill you for what you did to him." Angela hisses, feeling the rage inside of her build into sadness and spite. She looked her up and down again. Her left leg was clearly broken along with her ribcage bruised in a rainbow of purple, blue, red and pink. Her collar bones had very little skin to them in what seemed to be scratch marks. Her lips bust yet had clearly chewed at skin, and her hair was missing in patches and could be seen in clumps on the floor. Finally, Widow conjured up the energy to reply. 

"Do it, Angela. Take me back to him."


	2. Protéger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak French and completely translated Amelie's piece, so if you speak French and can help me with correcting the whole thing I'd be really grateful :) Also this is a super short chapter because the whole text is on a document and idk I just think it would look better as separate chapters :) If not constructive Criticism is welcome!

Curled up on the floor, with a broken leg and various other broken bones, sniffling and murmuring, Amelie was still clutching onto the Polaroid. Voices behind her were muffled and she couldn't hear out of her left ear. Breathing was a chore as her ribs felt like they were crumbling inside of her, and her stomach ached constantly; getting stronger with each passing day. Her mouth was dry. Her tongue struggled to move without feeling so rough against her blistered cheeks; for the past few weeks all she could taste was blood, but now that's gone. She had no sensation in her left hand and despite the snapped leg she couldn't feel that either. It's like her whole body was numb to all pain except psychologically as she couldn't think straight for more than two minutes at a time. It's like nightmares were flashing in her head leaving very little gaps for control or sanity. But oh, wasn't he handsome. His chiselled jaw, deep brown eyes and warming smile quietened the voices for a while and she felt something so faint yet familiar. How she missed him. How she missed the feeling of his body almost wrapped around hers at night so protectively. His giant arms holding her close to his chest as he rested his head against hers. The occasional kiss on her head would send her to sleep aided by his comforting scent. Ever since he left, she couldn't feel a thing apart from the lingering ache that terrorised her soul day and night. But these past few weeks had her dipping in and out of his arms again. Oh, how she longed to finally be released of this torture and to see him again; they knew this. They would leave her on the brink. Close enough to almost hear him but too far to reach out. 

Each beating felt like one step closer to her release, yet each sip of water or bite of food felt like two steps back. But now this could finally be it. After years of calling for this she has been answered. She waited patiently for the darkness whilst clutching onto the picture of Gerard. She was the last thing he saw, and now he will be the last thing her eyes close upon. 

Her arm was still up right, with the picture hovering in front of her face. Her head started to throb has her heart slowed down even more. She could hear him now. She shivered and kept her eyes glued to the picture of him, feeling her eyes drooping more and more. With her ever decaying breath, she manages to throw out a final conversation to her husband. 

"Je t'aime pour toujours, Gérard. Un docteur peut me sauver la vie. Un avocat peut défendre ma vie. Un soldat peut se battre pour ma vie, mais vous seul pouvez me donner le vrai sens de la vie" She gulped and stuttered, taking in a choking breath. "J'ai hâte de retrouver la vie."


	3. Överleva

Angela nods in Jacks direction. The words of advice comforted her slightly and prepared her. She turned the gun back to Amelie and took a deep breath in; but exhaled quickly as she watched Amelie's arm flop to the ground and her french muttering fizzle out into what sounded like a final gasp. 

She lowered the gun and glanced at Jack before rushing towards Amelie's lifeless body. The picture was laying in her cold, curled hand and a final tear dripped down her face. Angela choked and covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut as she is overwhelmed by the sudden mix of anger and bereavement. She couldn't allow Talon to do this to both Gerard and Amelie. Before she knew it, she had conjured up all of her strength and a bright golden glow ran through Amelie's body and her hair lit up into gold. Her limbs twitched and she spluttered. Jack stepped back in shock and dropped his gun to the floor. A sudden gasp emerged from Amelie's throat and she sat up at such speed it caused her to fall back down with a thud. She coughed on the floor, snapping Angela out of any shock she put herself in. Quickly, she rolled Amelie onto her good side into the recovery position and ordered the now spectating soldiers to drag her onto the stretcher. They obeyed with haste; obviously not used to Angela's harsh tone when in charge. She picked up the fallen image of Gerard and took Amelies hand in her own. 

"He will always be with you, even if you can't see him." Angela slides the Polaroid into Amelies shaking hand. "Now go to sleep." She thrusts a needle with Ana's sleeping concoction loaded inside and sent the soldiers off outside to the vehicles. Her work was done.


	4. Souffrir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Present Day) January 11th, 2076

A bright light shining above awoke her and caused her to squint. She turned her head away and looked to the side of her; seeing a glass of water beside a plate with a sandwich on top. There was also a clock and a small lamp. Her eyes adjusted to the light eventually and she glanced down at her body hidden under light sheets. Her leg was strung up in a thick cast along with her arm in a similar structure. Breathing felt easier with the aid of the device implemented in her nose, and her mouth no longer felt so dry. Amelie tried to sit up but she felt stuck to the bed and began to heat up in panic. She squirmed in the sheets and for the first time in years she felt her heart racing. This stopped something in her mind. Her heart was beating. She looked down and saw her uncast arm. She felt warm. Her skin was the original peach colour and heat radiated from her skin. Amelie gasped, patting her face with her hand multiple times to feel the heat that was so foreign to her.

Amelie allows herself to rest down on the huge ward pillows, listening to the rhythmic beeps mimicking her now average heartbeat. The feeling of not being able to even re position herself aggravated her and she felt so helpless. She couldn't even take a drink at the angle her suspended leg had her slumped in. Thankfully, a junior ward nurse enters the room with a worried expression across their face. He glances over at her for a quick second before looking down at the floor and scurrying around the room; changing the towels and dimming the lights slightly.

"Excuse me," Amelie begins, her voice still raspy and her throat relatively sore. The nurse turns to her with bulging eyes and spins back to folding towels. "Can you get me down from here?" She speaks clearly, thinking that perhaps her accent was too thick for him and he didn't understand. Again, no response. She pursed her lips together and watches as he leaves the room with a mountain of washing and towels in his arms. Just as she was about to try to sleep again, three other ward nurses enter the room and begin to lower her leg slowly, each looking paler than the next. They were all relatively young; bright eyes and fresh faces. Their uniform clean and ironed with the Overwatch logo on their right sleeve arm. After her leg was settled on the bed, Amelie was slouched in an even more uncomfortable position than before; her front curled over with her chin on her chest.

She looked at them, waiting for them to help her sit up properly. Silence. They all looked at each other as if having psychic battles over who has to help her up. Amelie sighs and tries to prop herself in a more comfortable position with her good arm until one rolls their eyes at the others and groans, placing trembling hands under her arms and pulling her up properly. The other two stand awkwardly at the back, staring as their friend spins around. They flee the room without a word but Amelie could hear their voices in the corridor, but not well enough to make out what they were saying. It was so quiet in the room save for the beeping. The plugs in her hand and chest were sore and irritant, and her stomach growled but she felt sick just thinking about food. Amelie turned towards the sandwich sitting on the bedside table and took the plate in front of her, resting it on her straightened legs. She picked up the food and sniffed it; gagging at the faintest whiff of meat. She drops it back on the plate and wipes the tears from her eyes; not remembering the last time she ate something that wasn't stale bread and musty water. Amelie gives up and turns to place the plate back on the table, noticing that the polaroid was previously hidden underneath it. As she was reaching for the picture, another more familiar person enters the room. "I see you're feeling better? Just as well, you've been fast asleep for a few days."


	5. Att bry sig

So fragile. Walking into the ward room, Angela looks Amelie up and down in concern. "We almost lost you a few times, you know." She continues, sitting beside her and minding the plastered leg. Amelie leaves the polaroid on the table and begins picking at her finger nails, refusing any kind of eye contact. They both sat there in silence, only the heart monitor to break it rhythmically. Angela scans the room for something to talk about and stops at the uneaten sandwich. 

"You should really eat something," She starts with intent to sound caring but worrying it sounded like a demand, or criticism of sorts. No response. "Do you not like the filling?" Angela could feel her voice getting higher as she shuffles closer to Amelie and leans over for the plate and taking it off of the table. She gingerly picks up the top slice of bread, exposing an egg mayonnaise goo. Cringing at the sight, Angela places the sandwich back down and sighs. 

"So what are you going to do to me?" Amelie croaks, still picking at her fingers nervously and staring at the bedsheets. Her worry was evident; As if memories of whatever atrocities Talon committed were haunting her that very second. In fact, Angela had no idea what the plan was. No one expected an elite Talon agent to be residing in Overwatch's top care, betrayed by their own organisation. The shock on people's faces when Amelie was being rushed into critical care, her blue skin and long silky hair already had them whispering. Some people are angered at this and want her as a prisoner or even dead. Others are morally torn and unsure about the entire situation. Angela was one of those, of course. One part of her brain is telling her to bring Amelie back to strength so she can be put on trial and held accountable for her actions...but another part thinks of Gerard and what he would say about all of this - and if it is fair to hold Amelie accountable for what Widowmaker did. 

"We don't know, yet. But for the meantime we will be taking care of you, Amelie." Angela replies with a confident sounding tone. She forces a smile across her face as Amelie glances up at her for a brief second. 

"Now, you need to rest and get your strength. I'll be patching you up again soon enough" Tapping gently on the cast, Angela stands up and hovers for a moment. Silence. She takes a slow breath in, spinning around back to the door. 

Angela swiftly leaves the room and quietly shuts the door behind her, glancing over at a chattering group of junior students. She smiles and saunters over to them. "You must be very far ahead of your duties to all be stood here talking." Angela hums, stuffing her hands in her pockets and watching as the young faces dart looks between each other. They weren't afraid of her, she knew that much. But there was clear respect and that was exactly how she liked it. 

"Sorry, Dr Ziegler. We were just talking about her in there." One of them pipes up. A messy, chubby looking fellow points at Amelie's room and looks to his friend for assistance. Angela's brow knits together as she could feel a slight aggravation. 

"Is it true? Is she really a Talon assassin?" The other one asks, clutching onto a clipboard and gawping at Angela. 

"She scares me...why is her skin blue?" The one closest to Angela confesses. 

"Amelie Lacroix is a patient here just like the others and I expect you to treat her that way..." She pauses briefly. "Talon agent or not." They shuffle uncomfortably and mutter apologies under their breath, watching as Angela glides past them down the brightly lit corridor.


	6. Preguntarse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Past) September 31st, 2075

"Does he ever shut up?" Olivia thought to herself, taking a hearty bite out of an apple as she lounges on her chair with her legs resting up on the conference table. Whilst Sanjay Korpal droned on about future plans for the so called "good of the world", Olivia scanned the other agents sat around - each with a bored expression on their faces. Moira sat back trying to look interested but her wandering eyes complimented Reaper's exasperated sighs perfectly. It had been a good two hours since the presentation had started and nothing seemed to be of any value to Olivia...or anyone else for that matter. She rolled her eyes at the flicking of the presentation screen to "Stage 2.4" and looked back at the table of tired agents. Widow was besides Reaper, the one least interested in what that man had to say...apart from Olivia of course. Her face was resting on her left hand as she stared down at the scrap of paper in front of her, occasionally scribbling flowers onto it. Olivia hadn't seen Widowmaker look up at the slides once since the presentation began. She smirked over at the bluish woman who began to flick bits of paper gently, until she loses control of one perfectly aimed shot that flew across the table and skimmed Korpals forehead, bouncing off of the wall. Olivia held back her snorts as Korpal sighed and announced a break. Olivia jumped up from her chair and sped out of the room with as much composure as she could before cackling to herself. She waited outside of the doors for Widow to appear, whom was trailing behind a complaining Moira. 

"Nice shot," Olivia states, grinning at the sour faced woman who completely disregarded what she said and walked past her. Used to this response, Olivia pulled herself up from the wall and walked besides her. 

"Do you think you could do that again when we go back in? Could really go for a free afternoon." She continues, watching as Widow sighs and glances down at her. 

"It was an accident." Widow replies with a sharp hiss to her words. 

"Sure it was. I mean, how else could you have hit the perfect shot if you didn't look up from the table once during those thrilling two hours?" Olivia jokes, brushing some crumbs off of her shirt from the flapjack she had earlier, and threw the apple core in a nearby bin. Widow scoffed and shook her head, reaching out for Moira's shoulder and engaging a conversation to steer Olivia away. 

Later that day, whilst strolling through the corridors of the smaller Talon base, Olivia catches Moira leaving her laboratory. Fumbling with the keys and the steaming cup of coffee in her bony hands, Moira was muttering under her breath in a language foreign to Olivia. Before she could say anything, Moira finishes locking up and stands straight - almost towering over Olivia - and addresses her promptly. 

"Sombra. You're still here? I thought you would've..." She waves her now free hand around her head, looking for words. "been up to no good by now." She finishes with a sassy tone about it. Olivia folds her arms and rests against the walls, shrugging. 

"Well you know, got to take a break from the screen sometimes." She replies, fiddling with her glove. "I dont suppose you're too disappointed that the presentation ended?" Moira scoffed loudly and took a drink from her mug. 

"I don't think I've ever been more bored in my life." She turns around to leave and Olivia was about to let her before a thought suddenly entered her mind. She raised her eyebrows and pushed herself away from the wall. 

"So what's up with Widow?" She asks curiously. Olivia had always wondered why Widowmakers skin was that colour, or why she never saw her laugh or even smile. Why her eyes were yellow and her skin cold to the touch. Her voice was almost always flat and tired, even more so these past few days. Moira paused in her tracks and remained quiet for a few seconds, turning back around. 

"Can you elaborate?" 

"Well you know, how come she looks so mad all the time?" Olivia asks looking around curiously then back to Moira. Moira simply stood there and shrugged, a bit of coffee spilling out onto the floor. Sombra bit her lip cheekily and walked a little closer to the looming scientist. 

"Why is she blue?" Moira pulled a face and simply stated something about evolutionary benefits. Olivia yawned sarcastically. 

"Oh come on Moira, I know you have something to do with it..." She pauses. "Like you did with Gabe." Whispering the final part and watching Moira's eyes spark brought slight joy to Olivia. Moira scrunched her eyebrows together. 

"Why don't you go ask her yourself?" She returns, sipping her coffee whilst keeping strong eye contact with the tiny hacker that stood so confidently. 

"She doesn't like me." 

"Oh I just can't imagine why!" Moira sarcastically exclaims, turning around and walking away. Olivia rolls her eyes and squints, pursing her lips together whilst rapidly piecing together a plan. 

Later that night 

"You're hidden under here somewhere, spider. I know you are." Olivia whispers to herself; flicking through pages and pages of confidential material from Talon's finest. These past hours Olivia had been scouring the data base for any information on Widow and her biology but to no avail. She did learn that Gabriel is 6ft and has a terrible diet but that's the only interesting piece of information she has come across. Finishing up a carton of orange juice, Olivia tosses the box into the rubbish bin besides her desk and runs her hand through her hair. She swivels around on her chair away from the screen and rubs her eyes. It's 11:49PM and today had been increasingly boring and Olivia wanted nothing more than to just find what she was searching for and head off to bed. But it was buried deep. Her home was illuminated pink with her multiple screens around her each with so much useless information it almost angered her. She sighed and returned back to it. Swiping and swiping, unlocking more heavily encrypted pages with just a flick of her finger only to find nothing useful. She ditched the medical records and instead searched the entire database for her. The basic identification page came up; showing an intimidating ID Photo of her, along with her age, rank and other useless information. In folders she found an incredibly long, long list of successfully eliminated targets it was morbidly impressive. So many names that meant nothing to Olivia would mean the world to each of their relatives. At the very end of the seemingly never-ending list, there was a subcategory that had medium to high ranking overwatch agents assassinated. The more Olivia flicked through the list, the more it seemed like a form of showcasing - almost bragging. Of course, Widowmaker didn't write this page. But Talon was obviously very keen to show off their weapons to any potential interest and investors. 

Olivia groans as her eyes feel heavy and the words blurred together. Looking back at the clock besides her the numbers seem harsh and unforgiving. "One more push." She mutters before gulping some day old water. Selecting the top-ranking assassinated Overwatch agent, she is greeted with a large section about this man and his attempts at sabotaging Talon. Originally working in Blackwatch besides Jack Morrison, Gerard Lacroix was the target of multiple attempts of assassination by Talon until they finally succeeded using Widowmaker. Olivia raises her eyebrow. "Why didn't they just send her in the first place?" She thought to herself, flicking through multiple discarded plans and personal information attached to his account that was buried deep. She reaches a photo album of sorts, with various pictures of him both with family and friends, and on his own. There is a reoccurring woman of small stature that appears regularly, along with a few of their top medic Dr Ziegler. He was clearly popular amongst Overwatch and was most likely a prize catch for any agent capable of taking him out. It didn't surprise Olivia that Widowmaker was the one to do it. More questions sparked in her mind. How did she kill him? Why did she choose to do it? 

Suddenly, she stops. Gerard Lacroix. "French!" Olivia gasps. She continues flicking and searching frantically, digging deeper and deeper until she hits a dead end. Redacted. She laughs in the face of the challenge and begins to hack harder, going into pure binary code to hit a line. But nothing. She leaned back in her chair in defeat; rubbing her hands over her face and into her hair. She glances over at the clock, her eyes stinging with each movement. 3:43AM. Olivia sighs and throws the old water over at the bin besides the carton and shuts down her mega computer, drags herself over to her bed.


	7. Guérison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Present Day) January 14th, 2076

A jolt of pain ran through her body as she picked open the barely healing scab on her collarbones, causing her to cry out weakly. She pulled her shaking hand away and looked down at the patches of blood trickling down her fingers to her wrist. Shutting her eyes in fear and disappointment, Amelie sobs gently and reaches for the tissues beside her to wipe up the blood. She's in a harsh cycle of pain and fear which drives her to tears constantly. The stress ball they provided her with sat untouched on her bedside table besides yet another egg mayo sandwich. She hadn't eaten for days and they are starting to speak about "assisted eating". Amelie groaned in frustration and sadness, pulling herself into a more comfortable position. Her leg is still in major disrepair but her arm was recovering quickly, which she is thankful for. She reaches over for the glass of water next to the disgusting sandwich and drinks almost all of it at once; subconsciously using the water as a substitute for food in her aching hunger. Deep voices can be heard from outside of her door; she feels herself begin to tremble at the fear of the unknown and her hands return to her collarbones. 

The door unlocks with few sharp noises and a familiar man walks in with his eyes glued to Amelie's. They both sit in silence for a good five minutes as he looks at the damage around her face and chest along with her plastered limbs. Amelie sits, frozen to the spot. She can feel herself quivering under the sheets as he slowly walks closer to inspect the wounds. He takes a drag from the pungent cigar and drags a chair from the corner of the room to the side of her bed. The scraping noise makes her cringe and flinch, turning away whilst wrapping her arms around herself in protection. Amelie looks away from him, unable to make any more eye contact in fear of crumbling again. 

He takes another drag and unknowingly blows the smoke in her general direction, causing her to splutter and choke uncontrollably. He swears under his breath and tries to pat her on the back in aid but feels something click or even snap under his hand. His eyes bulge as he cringes and stands up to get assistance from a nearby nurse - but Angela had already burst through the door almost taking him out. "What happened?" She exclaims, rushing over to a doubled over Amelie who was dry heaving and groaning. Before he can conjure up a reply, Angela had already caught sight of the cigar and her enraged expression put the cigar out. "Are you an idiot?"  
Mccree moves hesitantly out of a raging Angela's way as she fixes Amelie up almost instantly, laying her so gently onto her back and placing a breathing assist over her mouth for a few seconds to stabilise her. Amelie could feel herself relaxing almost immediately upon Angela's care - her breathing returned to normal and she no longer felt like she was going to cough up her own lungs. She was rested down onto the pillows and the feeling of Angela's soft hands brushing away hairs from Amelie's face almost sent her to sleep. She could feel her eyes drooping, slowly falling into a nap - until being rudely snapped back into reality by the screeching noise Mccree's chair made when he dragged it closer to the bed. 

Angela spins around to face him and snatches the cigar right from his mouth and launches it out of the room window before threatening him with a pointed finger. She looks back at Amelie before glaring at him one last time and disappearing out of the room.


	8. To question

Mccree rests back on his chair and looks at the bony assassin laid almost helplessly on her bed. He removes his hat and places it gently on the floor beside him, coughing slightly to clear his throat. He had a lot of questions about multiple topics - mostly personal - but he was sent in to ask specifically about Talon. Now Mccree has never been one to take orders; only joining Blackwatch to avoid jailtime and because it offered a hidden freedom that Overwatch seemed to not provide. But he knew the importance of finding out exactly what they did to their own agent and what their plans are for the future. 

"Sorry 'bout that," McCree begins, shuffling somewhat uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm just here to ask you a few questions." 

He could feel Amelie's eyes digging into his soul; a glare that showed no remorse only hatred. McCree barely knew Gerards wife, they met a few times at overwatch celebratory events and what not. She was always quiet yet friendly, always happy to talk and listen to others. She would cling onto Gerard with a proud aura around her; gazing at his medals or his eyes in a way that almost sickened McCree. He always remembered Gerard having to leave a meeting unexpectedly for an "Emergency". That's what he called it when he ran out of the room and into the car park. Later that week, Gerard confessed that he forgot about his wife's ballet recital. 

"Why did they imprison you?" He asks, taking out a crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and opening it up to read the rest of the questions he scribbled down. They both sat in silence. "Not talking? Must've been bad." McCree says casually. Amelie kept her mouth shut and tilted her head away from him, looking down at the covers and fiddling with her fingers. 

"What are Talon's plans for the future?" Reading off of the sheet, he squints his eyes. What a ridiculous question. It was clear that she wouldn't answer that especially as she didn't answer the starting question. He sighs, frustrated. Crumpling the paper in his hand, he throws it towards the bin and misses. Knitting his fingers together and leans over to her, drawing her attention as she moves her head quickly in his direction with an icy glare to follow. 

"Why'd you do it to him?" McCree whispers with a hint of aggression and annoyance. Her eyes softened but remained planted firmly on his; still refusing to speak. McCree lets his head drop down for a brief second before pulling it up and sitting back. 

"I'm gunna need at least one answer before I leave here." He states stubbornly. She sighs and pulls herself up slightly, staring down at her hands for a moment. 

"I was accused of something I didn't do."


	9. Para descubrir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Past) October 1st, 2075

Waking up in the middle of the day has always been an issue for Olivia. She feels like she has wasted half of the day when she could've been unlocking some deep hidden secrets. A lorry roars outside of her window, causing her to groan and throw a pillow over her head to block out the noise. Sighing, she decides to pull herself out of bed and slip on some sweatpants and a tank top, shuffling over to her computer to clear the desk of the trash. After finishing a spot of spring cleaning (in Autumn), Olivia grabs a fresh cup of coffee and activates her PC again...her jaw dropping and eyes bulging as she reads the alert flashing on the screen. Normally, a simple email wouldn't shock Olivia. But This, this was both worrying yet intriguing. The sender was anonymous but a simple click would uncover their identity in a second; but Olivia had bigger fish to fry. Someone knew she was sniffing around the files, specifically Gerard Lacroix. An old woman's face flashed up on the screen with her name and possible location. A now failed assassination of Widowmakers, once believed to be successful. "Ana Amari...what are you hiding?" She mutters, stuffing some cereal into her mouth she just grabbed. Chomping through the frosted flakes she reads more and more into ghost, both through Overwatch's files and Talons.

She notes down the suspected whereabouts of this woman on the back of a receipt from Mercadona before scouring the database for any contact information. Olivia sits back smugly and writes out a friendly message and has it sent on its way, detailing an exchange of knowledge...an agreement if you will. Soon enough, she gets another email - but not from the woman in question.

Meeting with Talon Agents

Inbox

Sanjay Korpal

12:53 PM (0 minutes ago)

to me

Sombra, Just a reminder that there is another meeting this afternoon at 17:00PM. It will be a short briefing on basic funding and foreign relations. Please be sure to attend this meeting and the others planned in the future weeks. If you have misplaced the schedule you can find it in your shared drive.

Thanks, Sanjay Korpal.

Rolling her eyes, Olivia deletes the message and checks her social network, finishing up the cereal. For a while now, Olivia has been without a close friend to talk to after she secluded herself to protect her identity. A string of high case hacks left her with a sudden black out of communication and a period of seclusion. Even a few snarky exchanges with Widowmaker or Gabriel would be the highlight of her day despite knowing that neither of them liked her very much - if at all. She spent most of her time delving into huge corporate chains and uncovering as many secrets as she could in order to learn and adapt. The timelines were dry and no significant news caught her eye, so she checked her shared drive for the schedule.  
Everything was neatly colour coded - Pink for "Sombra", Black for Reaper, Purple for Widow, Yellow for Moira, and Red for Doomfist. Thankfully, there was very little pink so it seemed like Olivia had plenty of time on her hands this week to get up to no good; However, Widowmaker seemed up to her eyeballs in work with at least four scheduled assumed assassinations over the next couple of months. Intrigued, Olivia stuck her nose in more and snooped around.  
"Damn..." Olivia mutters to herself, looking at the two incredibly high profile overwatch agents names and locations on Widowmaker's hit list. Of course, there was also a planned assassination of the Numbani prime minister, along with an infamous business woman, but Olivia couldn't care less about that. She hurriedly printed out the schedule and pinned it to the corkboard to her left.  
Suddenly, she hears the familiar email alert, and a large grin spread across her face.


	10. Att efterforska

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Present Day) January 20th, 2076

Angela sighed in frustration and scrunched up another piece of paper, throwing it over to the pile of other discarded notes. She runs her hands through her hair and stares down at the desk that had sheets scattered across it. Hours had passed since she started researching the cause of Amelie's blue skin; so many suggestions lead to dead ends that were always caused by the concerning heart rate. Methemoglobinemia was the closest Angela could get -but it didn't explain how her heartbeats were at an all time low. Her blood carries such little oxygen it's a wonder how she isn't in a constant state of fatigue, along with how she can go almost days without eating anything. It almost went against anything Angela knew; surely she should be needing to rest more often and eat a lot more due to the lack of energy she should have. But instead, Widowmaker was known to be able to jump from building to building, swinging from roofs and darting through crowds whilst evading any hits. Sitting back and drinking luke-warm coffee Angela began sifting through the sheets into piles in an attempt to tidy up. Looking back up at her computer screen she flicks through some more medical sites and checks her emails for any responses after sending consulting emails. The screen illuminated her pale face with a slight blue hue, the brightness hurting her eyes as the room was completely dark apart from the monitor. It was early in the morning and Angela could feel herself dropping off but she was determined to break whatever curse Moira had placed on Amelie.

As she felt a sudden surge of motivation, she stopped and asked herself why. Why was she so determined to help the woman who killed a good friend? Angela shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to sweep away the thoughts that distracted her from the research at hand. She sighed and continued to scan through books about the heart. She stops on a page written about a scandal involving an Olympic athlete. The athlete, Margo Fuller, was found to have heart slowing drugs in her system to improve accuracy in the javelin event. As she reached the fourth and final round, she collapsed to the floor and her hand was impaled with the javelin. She had overexerted herself to the point where there was barely any oxygen in her brain which caused her to black out. This wasn't news to Angela, but as she turned the page, a conclusion explained how they reversed the damage caused by the lack of oxygen. The drugs had made it so her heart pumped blood almost twice as slow as everyone else and the amount she took made the effects semi-permanent. So to fix this, the doctors implemented a pacemaker and monitored it 24/7, along with adjusting the tempo where needed. Though Angela knew this wasn't going to be as simple as implementing and monitoring a pacemaker, it could be a potential start, so she scribbled down some notes on a fresh piece of paper and called it a night. 

Standing up, she scrapes the chair behind her and looks down at the mess on the floor. Angela begins to pick up the balls of paper and emptying the rubbish into a bag to be put into the recycling bin when she wakes up. Underneath all of the paper there were unorganised books she had originally planned to sort alphabetically in her studio library for a few days but never got round to it. With this final burst of energy she decided to do it now before heading off to bed; meaning one less job to do in the future. The stress of growing tensions within the hidden Overwatch operations and Talon was leaving its mark on Angela. She was tired and overworked with no pay off or sight of the end. The further they delved into the mess that had been left to fester it opened more corruption and lies; a maze that trapped all those inside. She had started to regret answering Winstons request; working in quiet refugee camps every day she would patch people up and see the small conflicts in that area be resolved. She would move camps every couple of weeks after those wars had ended and it felt somewhat refreshing to be helping people with clear positive outcomes. But now, she felt useless. Maybe this is why she is so determined to fix Amelie? To make a significant breakthrough in Talon's science could be a game changer as Overwatch will be able to exploit their weaknesses easier. Or was it because she wanted to remove the corruption and poison from Amelie to see her back to her original state? These thoughts laid heavy on Angela's heart as she started to think about Amelie before Talon got their hands on her. Now she is laying in bed with constant respiratory support, terrified of any little noise yet remains emotionless. The healing wounds were deeper than what they seemed as they clearly played on Amelie's mind randomly triggering her into spasms or sudden bursts of being petrified.

Finishing up with the books she looks back at her study and sighs with relief. It was finally tidy save for the coffee mug sat on the desk. She switches her computer off and grabs the mug, turning the lights off has she heads out and shuts the oak door behind her. Walking down the dark hallway into the kitchen lit faintly by the street lights, Angela empties out the remaining coffee into the sink and swills it with a quick jet of water from the tap. The world looked so peaceful at night, the rustling of leaves outside being the only noise she could hear whilst drying her hands and placing the mug into the dishwasher. She stood for a moment, trying to clear her mind before going to sleep, leaning over the sink and breathing deeply - something Genji had taught her to do to relieve stress and maintain or recover balance. It had been a while since she last contacted him and added that to the ever growing list of things she needs to do before the weeks end. She sighs once more and pulls herself away from the counter and turns around, letting out a scream as she locks eyes with someone sat in her armchair across the room.

 

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you." Sombra says with a smile as she admires her nails. 


	11. Caill an cath, buaigh an cogadh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Most recent Past event) 9th January 2076

Clinking her long claws against the travel mug in front of her, Moira glared at each person sitting around the table. Everyone had sour faces as they clutched onto a summary sheet reading up on the recent raid in the side quarters of Talon. There seemed to be a slight hesitation as they all sight in an uncomfortable silence in the dark room with a monochromatic interior design. The table stretched across the room with three spotlights lighting up the area barely, causing Moira's eyes to strain under the pressure. Sat at the head seat was Maximillien who, despite his omnic still face, seemed furious about the attack. He slammed his hand down onto the desk and threw the paper onto the ground.   
  
"Unacceptable!" He exclaims, standing up from his chair. "This is unacceptable. How was that branch so uncoordinated they let a bunch of Overwatch pensioners break through?" His rage was apparent in the heavy tone in his voice; and the other members' faces. Doomfist sat opposite Moira and had a scowl spread across his face with a clear refusal to make eye contact with Maximillien. Moira sighed and rubbed her forehead with her hand, slightly scraping her skin with her nails. The recent events had somewhat shocked Talon; not only had they been betrayed by a member of their own, but they had also significantly underestimated that person. Their security in that place was supposedly airtight yet it seemed like it was brought to it's knees within moments. Though not everyone was surprised. Moira had suspicions from the start - Sombra was never truly all for Talon as she deliberately sabotaged one of her first missions for her own gain, along with numerous disappearances that would often result in a minor downfall for Talon. She often wondered why they kept her on; But each time Sombra was working with them as opposed to against, they had an almost flawless success. Her brilliant hacking skills and genius technology kept them afloat through Overwatch's hidden attacks that seemed to hit in all the right places. 

"What do you propose we do?" Akande asks almost hesitantly. Maximillien pauses for a hot minute, with what Moira would imagine would be a glare of rage.   
  
"I don't know, Akande. What do you propose we do?" He replies with a hint of sass that amused Moira significantly. Akande shuffled uncomfortably in his seat before suggesting a bunch of half backed ideas and looking around in a last ditch attempt for second hand confidence. She rolled her eyes and sighed once more.

"I think we're blowing this far out of proportion." Moira begins, her honey voice filling the room with an air of confidence that Akande lacked. 

"How so? We have lost both agents within the space of a few weeks both due to betrayal. How are we blowing this out of proportion?" Maximillien snaps, his head tilted directly at Moira with his hand still curled into a fist. Before she could respond, Gabriel steps in instead.

"They took Widowmaker. She's been trained for this exact thing and extracting information along with key assassination," He pauses, watching as Maximillien leans back into his chair and knitting his fingers together. "She's on the inside now. They did us a favour in a way." Moira remains silent as the others begin discussing this. They all suddenly had a surge of reassured confidence; speaking about how to extract her from their clutch and resume with the indoctrination. 

 

Various techniques were used against Amelie. The first time she was taken by Talon, her cries for help almost got to Moira; but not quite. Being a famous Ballerina, Amelie had a wonderfully healthy body. Her diet was perfect, along with an excellent sleeping schedule. To other people these things would seem irrelevant. But to Moira, they were factors that created a perfect human experiment. Gabriel had a terrible diet and sleeping pattern which negatively impacted the first few experiments Moira performed on him. She put up a fight for the first few hours but tired herself out soon enough. The needles were the worst for Amelie. She screamed at the basic needles and went a pasty white when the larger ones were simply revealed to her. The indoctrination techniques dried her eyes and gave her such terrible headaches that Talon could use to mirror the pain onto Overwatch and begin planting the seed of hatred that would wrap itself around her husbands final breaths.

But now, Moira had to evolve and advance the technology and techniques used to keep Widowmaker cold. More drugs were used to keep her heavily sedated whilst inflicting pain. Moira needed to remove any trace of Amelie Lacroix if she was to be successful in the completion of this super assassin. It got to a point where even Gerard's name would cause her to flinch and express anger or discomfort. Moira often caught Widowmaker in a state of frustration and confusion. She would pull at her own hair and scratch at her collarbones through stress that was a common symptom of the indoctrination process. But this seemed worse; she couldn't snap out of it herself and it seemed to take over her entire body. Widowmaker would not speak nor respond to touch. It would take hours or even sedation to take her out of it. Heavy medication was supplied every week; and strict protocols were taken to ensure she took the correct amount and at the right time. It seemed to visibly upset her for the first few weeks - she turned her nose up at the pills and expressed her concerns about the medication effecting her accuracy whilst in the field. It also didn't help that Sombra made a few off the cuff remarks about insanity which were insensitive to say the least. Eventually she would take them begrudgingly. Moira often wondered how she coped at home and attempted to rope Sombra into installing a covert surveillance system in Widowmakers apartment but cut the plan short as it was too much of an invasion of privacy - even for Moira. It was clear that not much progress had been made through these indoctrination programs, and that her brain was slowly adapting to it. Suppressing such a strong character as Amelie proved to be a difficult task as she made herself seen more and more often. Truthfully, Moira had no idea if the process would deliver the desired advantage of Widowmaker in captivity. But, she let them chat amongst themselves as the tension had finally been lifted.

Later that evening, Moira sat herself down in the large armchair that resided in her living room besides the fire and rubbed her forehead sighing greatly. The current situation Talon was in put Moira under great stress to perform faster and stronger than before. They were two agents down; both were significant in their areas of expertise. Sifting through paperwork, she read through her old research sheets on Widowmaker and other subjects. Each showed clear loyalty to Talon - what most, especially Dr Angela Ziegler, would call Stockholm syndrome - which confused Moira greatly. Unless the indoctrination was wearing off unexpectedly fast, it seemed like Widowmaker was not the culprit behind the inside destruction of Talon. Now, in fairness, Moira was one of the first people to point the finger at the woman. But upon deeper thought in her cold yet fire-lit apartment it came to her that perhaps Sombra was behind it. It's obvious to everyone that she cares very little for Talon's end goal and even less for those working for it. Her morals are jumpy at best (which Moira could relate to if one was feeling generous) and it wouldn't be the first time she has betrayed Talon. However; the evidence against Widowmaker was strong which resulted in her harsher captivity and almost lethal indoctrination.

 

 

 


	12. Tomber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two months before the kidnapping of Amelie Lacroix

The sound of the lake late at night always calmed Gerard. It was so calm yet the gentle waves created a harmony that set for a zen atmosphere throughout the apartment. If there is a storm, a similar effect is still there despite the opposite energy of the water. When they first looked around this apartment, Gerard had two things in mind; the lake, and the windows. Amelie was indifferent to them and focused more on the walk in wardrobe and spare room that could "fit perfectly as a dance space". These factors created a perfect recipe of agreement between Amelie and Gerard. Every night, the beautiful views and lake behind the building would remind him of that day.

They were engaged at that time, and thinking back at how far they have come always made him smile. He lays now with his arms around his newly pregnant wife, head tucked in the crook of her neck as she breathes softly. He rested his hands over her stomach; shutting his eyes and laying some careful, delicate kisses on her shoulder. Her hair smelled so fresh, and her skin of roses. He held her so close to him, so protectively. Recently the attacks on him from Talon were getting closer and closer - the last attempt left him almost fighting for his life. It made him think about what he does every day to make it special; what he does to make Amelie happy or what he does to improve their situation. It made him realise that, in fact, they very rarely spent nights out together. Gerard would come home rather late every night, sometimes Amelie would already be asleep. He didn't see as much of her as he would've liked. Sighing, he pauses for a brief moment before very carefully unhooking himself from her and dragging the covers over her now bare shoulders. Sneaking out of the room Gerard fishes his laptop out of his bag and opens the lid.

Cabaret Luna was something Amelie always wanted to attend but never alone. He promised her on their wedding night they would go that next week, but work changed those plans. Then the next week was promised, but the same result. Eventually she forgot about it, or so he thought. Now two years into their marriage, Gerard was determined to get her there. Recently, he had been undergoing a lot of overtime at work to ensure that Talon was staved off for long enough for Overwatch and Blackwatch to recover from the latest attacks. Amelie had also been busy; after months of rehearsals, last week was that of the performances in one of Paris' largest theatres. Naturally, Gerard managed to attend a few shows which always brought a smile to Amelie's face. She never really understood why he wanted to see the same performance more than once but was always grateful. Now he wanted he decided they both needed time off. He went straight to the Cabaret's website; but was met with a large banner of defeat. Sold out.

Sighing angrily, he spent the next hour scouring the internet for last minute tickets. His eyes grew heavy as he stroked his moustache in concentration. Eventually, he found two; for the handsome sum of 3050 euros. Gerard hovers for a moment, before shaking his head and closing the lid just slightly- catching glimpse of the pregnancy test sitting on the kitchen counter.

Within a space of a just a few minutes, Gerard had bought the tickets and booked a reservation at her favourite restaurant and hotel. 

He tiptoed back upstairs with a large grin spread across his face; carefully diving back under the sheets and pulling his wife back into his arms. But downstairs, unbeknown to him, his laptop flickered purple with an image of a candy skull flashing on the screen for a split second.


	13. Amour final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Night before Cabaret Luna
> 
> \- Disclaimer: I obviously do not speak French like a loser so I just put the speech into a translator and hoped for the best :S I did provide English translation of course, which is what I originally wanted them to say, but I'm sure Google translate has bent it slightly xD If you speak French, please do let me know the correct translations! :)
> 
> \- * Sandals are the same from her summer skin

Almost skipping like a school girl, Amelie clutched onto Gerard's hand as they made their way through the busy Paris streets. She couldn't stop herself from smiling; taking in the city atmosphere that made her so incredibly happy. Living in Paris had always been a dream of hers - being raised in a chateau that ruled over a tiny French town near Annecy left her almost shy of city life. Her family has been incredibly wealthy for generations, even through the French revolution they almost maintained their power and of course their riches. Though her father and grandfather would take her to Paris once a year on her birthday, she craved to relish it for more than one day. They always told her that it was "full of false French" and "a dangerous place for a young woman". Their old views infuriated Amelie more and more the older she grew, but she refused to let it taint the city. Now, an incredibly successful ballet dancer in Paris, Amelie couldn't be happier. Her family still looks down on her for not becoming the head of the household after her mother passed away, leaving the title to her younger sister who is almost incapable of wiping her backside after the years of mollycoddling by their parents.

Amelie changed her grip from Gerards hand and climbed up to his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as he pulled his arm out of her grip and wrapped it around her. He planted a kiss on her head whilst she chatted away about how "Paris always looks better at this time of day". They turn a corner and reach the restaurant, greeted by a beautiful sleek design and a queue trailing down the street. Amelie pauses worryingly, lifting her hand to her face and looking up at Gerard, who smiled reassuringly and held his arm out in the direction of the door. He leans to the doorman and whispers about a reservation, which triggered three escorts to take them both upstairs and into a breathtakingly stunning grand hall. Chandeliers hung from the domed, golden rimmed ceiling as leaves draped off of them. The windows stretched tall, exposing the city lights in all their glory as they twinkled like a constellation. The floor was a silky smooth marble that complimented the golden trimmings around the skirting board of the room. The atmosphere was light and airy, filled with laughter and the clattering of rich china and glasses. Amelie bit her light rose coloured lips in pure excitement, feeling her chest tighten as her breath was truly taken away. Gerard looked down at her, raising his eyebrows. He knew he'd really hit the mark with this one - the clear indication being her silence. She felt him nudge her gently to follow the staff to their table which was in the middle of the hall at the very back; a perfect window seat as the city landscape seemed to stretch around them. 

Feeling happier than she's ever felt before, Amelie wrapped her arms around Gerard's neck and hugged him tightly, listening to him chuckle slightly as he placed his hands on her waist gently. She carefully wiped the tears from her eyes (as not to smudge her perfect eyeliner) and sat down, watching as Gerard took his suit coat off and placing it over his chair. Amelie loved how careful and polite he was; he never forgot his manners, nor did he speak out of line or tone. He always dressed so smartly, and tonight, he was wearing the tailored three piece Armani suit Amelie loved so much. His hair was combed neatly to the side and he smelled of slight Vanilla much to her pleasure. 

On the other hand, Amelie was wearing a figure hugging dress in a shade of rosewood, complimented by matching Christian Louboutin heels. Her hair was scraped up into a silky semi-high bun with a puffy top, along with angel perfume fragrance her soft skin. Her nails were painted the same rosewood and her cheeks a rogue blush. 

"Alors, fleur, qu'en penses-tu?" ( _So, flower, what do you think?)_ Gerard asks with a smile, handing Amelie a menu then opening his own. She beams at him and looks around once more, leaning back in her chair.

"C'est bon...ça pourrait être mieux."  _(It's good...could be better.)_ She begins, playfully rolling her eyes around and smirking. Gerard chuckled in response. "C'est parfait, chérie. Absolument parfait."  _(It is perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect.)_ Her voice much like honey left him feeling sweet and satisfied. Amelie watched as his large hand reached across the table and held her delicate fingers, stroking them softly. 

"À chaque fois que je te vois, je ne peux pas penser que tu peux être plus belle. Et pourtant, vous voilà en train de me prouver le contraire, comme toujours."  _(Every time I see you, I cannot think you could possibly get more beautiful. And yet, like usual, you prove me wrong.)_ Gerard hums softly. He feels like his soul lifts up when she smiles, lowing her head slightly in blush. She feels his hands lifting her head up and cup her cheek. 

 "Un tel romantique - certaines choses ne changent jamais, n'est-ce pas?"  _(Such a romantic - some things never change, do they?)_ Amelie replied fondly, her eyes scanning his wonderfully chiselled face. She often remembered their first official date; a simple walk in the Jarden des Plantes was more than enough to cement her heart within Gerard's grasp. 

 

It was a hot day, the sun was beating down from early in the morning. Amelie decided to go quite casual, she didn't want to overdress especially in this weather. Wearing a flowing, chiffon crop top with a dainty floral embroidery over a pair of striped high waist shorts with matching belt tied in a bow, she showed her magnificently refined figure. Her hair was half up half down in a curled style, with a few strands of thick, brown hair hanging at either side of her face. She wore high sandals* and a few silver bangles on her left arm. Gerard arrived outside of her small townhouse a few minutes early, hanging around outside to kill time before knocking on the door bang on 11AM. When Gerard caught sight of her, he was speechless for a few seconds. Amelie, on the other hand, almost burst out laughing, as he had dressed himself in a smart shirt, waist coat and matching smart trousers. 

"Je suis vraiment désolé! Je n'avais pas réalisé que nous étions supposés porter des vêtements de cérémonie!"  _(I am really sorry! I did not realize we were supposed to dress formally!)_ She exclaims, her hand stroking the front of her neck as she stops giggling. He stands there awkwardly, his mouth twitching slightly. His head was beaded with sweat.

"Amélie, je dois avouer que je pensais que tu aurais voulu la formalité, étant donné ta famille..."  _(Amelie, I am so sorry, I would've thought you wanted the formality considering your family...)_ He begun, his voice trailing off as she cackled, stepping out of her house and locking the door.

"Formalité? Dois-je vous rappeler exactement comment nous nous sommes rencontrés et ce qui s'est passé?"  _(Formality? Need I remind you how we met and what happened?)_ Amelie replied with a cheeky grin across her face. She took out some orange tinted, white rimmed sunglasses from her bag and slipped them on, looping her arm around Gerards. 

 

 Trail of thought interrupted by the waiter, Amelie blinks out of her hypnosis caused by the soft circles Gerard was tracing with his thumb and her face drops. Her eyes dart from Gerard and back to the waiter who stood waiting with a notebook and pen in his hand. 

"Mes excuses, j'ai complètement oublié de regarder le menu!"  _(My apologies, I completely forgot to look at the menu!)_  She stutters hesitantly, fumbling with the menu as Gerard hid his laughter. He waved the waiter away to give her a few minutes to decide. Eventually she made up her mind and gave in her order, much to her husbands humour.

"Je savais que tu n'avais pas regardé le menu, je voulais juste te voir mal à l'aise."  _(I knew you didn't look at the menu, I just wanted to watch you squirm.)_ Gerard teases, laughing as she squints at him and pouts. 

 

 After a short while of joking and casual flirtatious remarks, their food arrives and they tuck into their meal. Suddenly, Amelie becomes very soft and starts to pat at her tears. Gerard put his fork down in surprise and took her hand.

"Ma chérie, quelque chose ne va pas avec votre nourriture? Est-ce si mauvais?"  _(My darling, is something wrong with your food? Is it that bad?)_ He questions worryingly. She shakes her head and laughs, her hand trembling in his. 

"Je suis désolé d'être comme ça, mais j'ai l'impression que nous nous sommes à peine vus récemment et que je ne réalisais pas à quel point tu m'as manqué."  _(I'm sorry to be like that, but I feel like we've barely seen each other recently and I did not realise how much I missed you.)_ Amelie sniffles gently. Gerard lowers his head for a moment, almost ashamed with himself. He lifts it back up and so carefully wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. 

"Tu m'as manqué aussi, Amélie. Mais je vous promets que lorsque notre bébé arrivera, je ne reculerai devant rien pour nous donner plus de temps. Pour notre famille."  _(I missed you too, Amelie. But I promise you that when our baby arrives, I will stop at nothing to give us more time. For our family.)_ He finishes, taking hold her hand once more and smiling as she nods in agreement. Coughing to clear her throat, she takes a quick sip of her water and picks her fork back up. 

"En parlant de notre bébé, des noms en tête?"  _(Speaking of our baby, any names in mind?)_ Amelie asks, popping a chunk of Sirloin steak in her mouth. 

"Qu'en est-il Arya?"  _(How about Arya?)_ He suggests, acting casually as not to make it obvious that he has been scouring books and the internet for potential baby names ever since she announced the pregnancy. He even pretended to think for a brief moment. But, after being married for two years and together for six, nothing was going to get past Amelie.

 "Oh? Et depuis combien de temps êtes-vous assis sur ce nom? Deux semaines maintenant?"  _(Oh? And how long have you been sitting on that name? Two weeks now?)_ She hums fondly, and eyebrow raised with a smirk.

"Vous ne l'aimez pas?" ( _You don't like it?)_ His voice became serious and concerned. She looks up quickly, sensing this change in tone and shakes her head wildly.

"Honnêtement, j'adore ça. Arya ou Cordelia?"  _(Honestly, I love it. Arya or Cordelia?)_ Amelie reassures him, dropping a hint of a name she's been thinking of recently. "Sérieusement, depuis combien de temps pensez-vous à ce nom?"  _(Seriously, how long have you been thinking of this name?)_ Gerard sighs and laughs slightly, chewing a vegetable momentarily before washing it down with some wine. 

"Honnêtement, ce nom ne m'était attribué que depuis la nuit où vous m'avez dit que vous étiez enceinte. Mais quand nous nous sommes mariés, je dois admettre que j'avais déjà commencé à penser aux noms de nos enfants si vous en vouliez un."  _(Honestly, that name was only given to me the night you told me you were pregnant. But when we got married, I must admit that I had already started thinking about our children's names if you wanted one.)_ He confesses, unknowingly almost setting his wife into tears again. 


	14. Ser engañado

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Night before Cabaret Luna.

Sitting in the French rental car already scattered with her belongings, Sombra grabs a mini donut from the box and stuffs it into her mouth as she gazes up at the sky. Usually, she dislikes being on the front line especially for surveillance work, considering she is able to hack into any camera device in the surrounding area and watch from the comfort of her own home. But this time was different. She quite enjoys dressing up and doesn't get the opportunity to do it very often, plus, the stars were out tonight. As the sky grew darker the stars twinkled even brighter; something that had always fascinated Sombra. Finishing up the donut she brushes her hands clean and sighs in frustration and impatience as a dark cloud rolls over and she grows bored of waiting. Suddenly she remembers her actual job and peers up at the top of the building where the targets were sat, feeling a wave of relief that they're still sat there. The radio crackles slightly before a harsh voice croaks through the station.

"Sombra. Are you in position?" They growl, with a few frustrated crackles of them struggling to turn their voice end off. Sombra smirks and rolls her eyes, patting her hair back into place and checking her eyeliner in the car mirror. 

"Yeah, and so are the targets." She replies, applying another layer of eggplant coloured matte lipstick. Quickly, she begins to scramble her belongings together; stuffing them into a clutchpurse and sliding the gun into a holster that was concealed under her tuscan sun dress. Slumping back into the seat she sighs and waits for the next line of communication. Sombra still failed to understand the meaning of the mission. They want to kill Gerard Lacroix for constantly foiling Talon's plans, and yet they're targeting his wife? Whilst he's there? She had brought this up numerous times; asking why they don't just shoot him there and then. But they just shrugged her off as if she wasn't holding all of their most buried secrets in her phone. Though Sombra had to remind herself that she doesn't really care about Talon - only what they can do for her. It has always been that way.

Soon enough, Sombra spotted some undercover agents getting out of cars dotted along the street and entering the restaurant a few moments apart. That was her cue. Shutting the engine off in her car she scrambles out into the street and straightens her dress before locking the doors. There was a slight chill in the Parisian air now that the sun had truly disappeared, sending a shiver up her spine. Sombra scrunched her nose in discomfort and attempted to adjust the strap on her new heels as the earpiece crackles again before more orders are barked at her. The chatter of the ever increasing line grew and made it hard for her to understand exactly what orders she was being given but it made no difference to her. She has a plan and she will follow it her way; after all, it's always foolproof. Breezing past the door security and assistants, she steadily climbs up the stairs and raises her eyebrows in recognition of those stationed around the building, blending in perfectly. It was truly a beautiful building with such an air of elegance it was almost upsetting to think that it would be ripped apart in a matter of minutes. Brushing some strands of hair out of her face she continues to her table, locking eyes with targets sat besides the window on the other side of the room. She had a clear line of shot to take the man out there and then. It was playing on her mind, her leg was itching as the gun jiggled slightly with her movements. Biting her lip she slowly reaches down to her ankle, pretending to itch it and slowly ride up her leg, inching closer and closer to the holster. Her eyes remained glued on the chattering man who's laugh bellowed throughout the restaurant. The tip of the gun brushed her fingers.

"Madame, are you ready to order?" The adolescent waiter asked whilst nervously clutching a tablet device. She pulled her arm away quickly and grinned, resting her elbow on the table and admiring her nails.

"I'll take a glass of Absinthe." Sombra replies whilst biting her lip and gazing over back at the couple. The waiter stuttered briefly before asking if she would like anything else. She picks up the menu and flicks through it momentarily, humming as she scans the French like she can understand it. "I might just skip straight to dessert. Eight macaroons please, all red." Sweating profusely now, he taps in her order before asking one last thing. 

"Madame, they all taste the same regardless of colour." He says in a rehearsed fashion. Tapping her nails on the table now, she squints at him with a devilish smile. 

"Red is my favourite." Sombra replied, fiddling with the silverware laid out in front of her. He nods and hurries away, whispering to another staff member. 

 

A few minutes pass and she watches as the same boy returns to their table and replaces their empty glasses with new, already filled, ones. As he was passing the final glass over, it knocked slightly on the edge of the table and spilt down her dress. She jumped slightly as he began apologising profusely and grabbing at a cloth to dry her with. Sombra rolled her eyes at this cheap tactic and shuffled on her chair, preparing to make a move. The couple were more than understanding of the accident and he retreated with the tray, passing by another waiter whom made a beeline to Sombra's table. Another zipped in and out of the tables and escorted the woman to the bathroom as Sombra and the waiter began discussing Absinthe. Soon, a notification buzzed on the waiters tablet and he revealed the eight Macaroons. The plan was in action. 

Sombra jumped up and made her way to the bathroom, walking down a dimly lit corridor with an abundance of flowers, water features and sculpture adorning the walls. The noise of the restaurant was almost nonexistent now, walking further down towards the Womans bathroom. Gently pushing open the door, she sees Amelie stood at the mirrors attempting to dry her dress with a towel, being assisted by a waitress. Sombra walks past her, looking at the spill.

"Just water, right?" She asks, smiling up at the woman.

"Oui, thankfully." Amelie replies, smiling back as she rubs at the fabric. Sombra shakes her head and gently takes the towel from her hands and begins to dab at her chest.

"If you dab it, it'll absorb more and won't ruin your dress." She hands the towel back to her and nods, heading into a stall. Waiting for the final signal, she opens up her purse and takes out the syringe, clutching it in her hand and staring as the liquid swills around inside. Sombra shuts her purse and sighs, leaning against the door and listening carefully. Suddenly, she heard two taps against the bathroom counter and a quick scuffle, a muffled scream followed it quickly as Sombra emerges from the stall to see Amelie restrained by the waitress, her mouth covered by the womans hand. She struggled and made as much noise as she can, tears falling down her face as she looks up to Sombra and tries to call out for help. Sombra tilts her head and prepares the needle, not sparing a single second in jamming it into the Amelie's neck and watching as her legs become weak and she slowly loses consciousness, being lowered gently by Sombra's coworker. Removing the syringe from her neck, Sombra watched the two women pick her up and remove any jewellery from her to prevent any tracking devices from squeezing through.

"She's down. We're leaving." She reports, holding her finger against the tiny device in her ear. 

"Good. Get out of there quickly, he will suspect something is wrong soon." 

 


End file.
